Said the Spider to the Fly. Yes, I know that is not quite the words of the spider, but the intent remains the same. "Just do as I ask, as I advise. Trust me, and all will be well." Uh huh. We all know the end of that. One of the many versions of the story of the scorpion or preferred version of a stinging insect. Kills his rescuer, simply because that is his nature. "Can't help it" is a great excuse. Do the deed, deny any self-control over one's worst instincts, deny any possibility of responsibility, and hey, there ya' go. Home free along with several dollops of sympathy, as you detail your constant struggle and the intense and earnest strivings you make to stop, even as your other stingers are injecting the venom as fast as possible.
Oh, you wail, weep over the difficulties of your life, as others come to battle with you, seeking to save their lives and the lives of their loved ones. You gnash whatever it is that spiders gnash, sob piteously how needy you are as all your income goes to the fight against your awful, regrettable instincts. And so, you take along with you bundles of cash, the grin on your face triumphant.
And why not? Why not, for you did it again. Pulled the wool over their eyes once more, the pleasure of deceit never stale. Oh, the joy within as your ploy to shift blame onto your foe worked so well, incriminating them for what you have indeed done or instigated. Joy in your Mudville tonight. And that bundle of cold cash, is to be spent on whatever your heart desires, arms and armaments preferable. Such a good day all around. Good day for killers, for butchers, for the evil of the world. Yes, indeed. On to the next plan, so luscious in imagination.
Oh, did we forget to mention the treaties, pacts, contracts, agreements, holds, pauses, ceasefires, permanent or temporary? First, we begin the hostilities simply by exercising our uncontrollable instincts, a bloody incursion is planned and carried out. Better than we had anticipated. Thousands killed, wounded, kidnaped, trafficked, brutalized, and our foe, actually correct in its reactions, is catching the blame for the deaths we instigated, brought about with our blood-stained intransigence. Oops, our uncontrollable instincts we do try so hard to negate. So difficult, strive as we do.
So sorry we cry for the thousands of resultant deaths and its apparent permanent state. We could not stop ourselves, so it was upon the enemy to hold back, to turn traitor to its people, to do what no other nation is asked to do or expected to do. Then again, these are the ones the world has consistently treated differently, holding to different rules and expectations, always open for accusations and guilt. So handy, they are.
Our tunnels did their jobs and will be rebuilt bigger and better than before. The armament factories will be more modern, as will the fresh newly built infrastructure we so cleverly forced our foe to destroy as they sought our tunnels. Victory, rebuilding, rejoicing, using the free-flowing cash for our debts and bills. We heave a huge sigh of gratefulness to them all, their gullibility and eagerness to always blame our foe. The world is funding our rebuilding, trying to buy away their guilt at not saving we poor put upon misunderstood, ever struggling wannabe be good people.
Graciously, we offer a peace treaty, the paper they must sign on the dotted line and what a gift we are giving them. All they need to do is open the gates of prisons, freeing all terrorists within, thousands of them, terrorists, to be free to ply their murderous trade again. An immediate ceasefire with a complete pullout of armed forces, no security plans, total freedom for all to wander around, no checking for criminals and terrorist murderers as we don't consider them to be such. Please, not to forget the extra and free electricity, gas, water, food, supplies, whatever we need to restock. Others? Ok, something will trickle down to them.
What do they get in turn? Truthfully, not too many live hostages we so graciously housed the past four months and likely for perhaps another six or so. We will after 45 days send back the living, such as they are, if any. Despite our generous care of them, perhaps about fifty are already deceased. The likelihood of more deaths - well, no more questions now about that topic and certainly no questions re the fate of the unnecessarily terrified mother holding her two redheaded babies.
But wait, there is more, for after another 45 days we will return any surviving soldiers and military personnel. After yet another three months till their release, one must be realistic. We have tried our best, have we not? Their deaths are upon them. And upon their nation who sent them here in a needless response to an act which was over and done with.
The final gift of ours will be the bodies of those killed or died during their captivity. We will graciously return their remains and that of two others as well and perhaps, two live long term prisoners. You ask if any future deaths are anticipated? Until their release? Well, time is of the essence, wouldn't you agree?
Something for all. And no, we will not discuss the future. Does this agreement not yet signed pose an existential threat to our foe - well, think for yourself.
That is all. No further questions. Simply get the pen and sign. So simple.
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Yitzy, I hope life is easier for you now. No more pain, no more uncertainty.
Your Torah fund is growing still, the writing has begun with plans for its dedication in place. You have left a mark upon so many, far greater than could ever be expected. The giant heart, the sharp mind, the warm soul and that signature grin.
That was and is Yitzy.
Love you, special boy.
Always and forever. Always and forever.
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